


The London Omega Tea Society

by MissThang17



Series: The Anthology of A/B/O [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: London Peerage, Regency, Tea Society, a/b/o dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2020-09-19 01:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20322754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissThang17/pseuds/MissThang17
Summary: It was well known by the ton of London that, in order to produce a good match and peaceful union in marriage, one must be a member of a tea society. Lydia Martin, a newly presented Omega, is invited to the London Omega Tea Society in order to be groomed to find an eligible mate, however her sharp tongue and arrogant demeanor pose a great number of challenges. As she navigates adulthood and the upper echelons of society, Lydia must learn to control her arrogance, or face the consequences.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! This work is another installment of my Teen Wolf regency works. If you haven't read the first, A Summer in Bath, I highly recommend it! It isn't necessary to understand this work but does offer more details on the A/B/O universe I have attempted to create. As always, read, comment and enjoy!

It was well known by the ton of London that, in order to produce a good match and peaceful union in marriage, one must be a member of a tea society. Formed by the gentry of London, perhaps in order to elevate their status, or that of their children, the tea societies groomed young ladies for marriage, hosting balls and dinners to introduce them to wealthy alphas of status. 

The most illustrious of the societies was also the most exclusive, for admittance rested entirely on one’s disposition by birth. The London Omega Tea Society catered solely to Omega, the rarest of the castes. Upon presenting, and in some cases even before, Omega would leave the convent and would be given a courtesy title, for a well to do Alpha would be in want of a wife of status, if not of wealth or of both. From there, they would be allowed into the Omega Tea Society and would meet and work alongside the matrons, unmarried Omega who devoted their lives to the Society, in finding a good match; for it was also well known that the Omega matrons were especially skilled in matchmaking, and alphas often bribed and fought for a seat at one of their dinners. 

Such was the knowledge that the Omega Lydia Martin took with her upon her presenting. At a respectable nineteen years of age, Lydia presented just two days after her birthday, and was immediately graduated from the convent where she had studied since fourteen. She had known she would be accepted to the Omega Tea Society, and not forced to pick between one of the others, as some unfortunate omegas were forced to do, because her Father was Brandon Martin, Earl of Sussex, who absolutely adored his daughter and fulfilled her every request. 

Lydia was not the sort of heroine who swooned and flushed, taken to flights of fancy and the sort of daydreams only wide eyed, innocent youths could concoct. Truly, Lydia was the sort heroine who read voraciously and could win any argument. She was intelligent and beautiful, and had allowed those qualities to be the foundation on which she built her sizeable ego. She could be manipulative and cruel, but could in equal parts be kind and generous, should she choose to be. Indeed, Lydia was the sort of heroine that would be difficult to manage, for a good match depended on agreeable nature, of which the Omega Martin was woefully bereft. 

She stayed in a lovely manor near Hyde Park with her mother Minerva and the widow Blake, who was a good friend to the Martin family and in need of new surroundings. The day after their arrival, Lydia traveled to Park Lane with the widow Blake as escort, where the Omega Tea Society held conference. It was a large estate, where Lydia knew the matrons to live, as unmarried Omega can only live with family or one another. She would learn the upper floors held the living quarters for the matrons, as well as a smaller, informal dining room, a library, parlor, a proper bath and two lavatories.

The lower floors held a formal dining room, a drawing room and parlor, larger than the one upstairs, as well as a library and two rooms dedicated to proper Omega hobbies, such as music and drawing. Below them was the kitchens, as well as the servant’s quarters. 

Lydia noted how few omegas were in attendance, meaning that this year’s presenting Omega were few, and she was grateful that her time preparing a season would hold little competition in regards to suitors. She met the Omega Tate; whose pinched face and unkempt hair gave Lydia little concern. She also met the Omega Argent, and although the girl was of considerable stature and beauty, she had a wild spirit, and it was clear she would not be there if it were her decision.

The matrons, despite not being very old, were as uptight and strict as Lydia had feared. The one saving grace among the bunch was Matron Stilinski, who urged the girls to call him Stiles. He had a wide, goofy grin, and tripped and stumbled as he flew between rooms, lacking all the grace omegas were reported to have. Truly, he was a pleasant refreshment from the dreariness of the Matrons Morrell and Finch, who looked as though they began each day by sucking on lemons. 

There was a lot to learn; the omegas spent their first few days sampling different teas, memorizing which teas came from where and which pastries and sandwiches to pair it with, for while the servants would prepare the refreshments, it was up to the Omega of the house to choose them. They were also given lessons on what outfits to wear to what events, and the proper way to socialize with potential suitors. 

Stiles taught the young omegas music, the man being an excellent pianist, and had over twenty compositions piled on his desk in various stages of completion. He also tutored them in Literature, as he held a deep love for the subject. Matron Morrell taught them dance, table manners, and conversational French. Matron Finch taught them how to organize events, garden parties and, most importantly, how to settle into married life.

Lydia thought it curious she should be tutored on marriage by unmated omegas, however she kept the thought to herself; it would not do well to anger the omegas entrusted with her future. Lydia made fast friends with Malia and Allison, though neither compared to the kinship she felt with Stiles, who she not only enjoyed for as long as she was able to during their studies, but also had over for tea at the manor, her mother and the widow Blake both adoring him as much as she did.

“Tell me, Matron Stilinski, why have you chosen to remain unmated and pursue a life as a matron? Certainly, a handsome male omega would not want for suitors.”

Stiles gave the Lady Martin a soft, yet guarded smile. “I fear I am simply not cut out for marriage, and I quite enjoy teaching the young omega s music, although some are more naturally given to it than others.” He gave Lydia a mischievous grin as he said this, which the girl matched. 

“Well, we certainly enjoy having you,” Lady Martin acquiesced, offering the young man another scone, which he readily accepted.

When he would leave, the Lady Martin’s opinions burst forth from her. 

“Such a beautiful young man! Tall as any beta, and quite lithe! Did you not note his shoulders, Miss Blake? Quite a stature, indeed! And only five and twenty, he should be married, or very near so! I cannot imagine why he should not!”

Lord Martin, who had been up visiting his family and bore witness to one such tirade from his wife, let out a derisive snort. “Perhaps he fears becoming an old gossip who badgers guests at tea.”


	2. Chapter Two

After weeks of preparation, the young omegas were ready for their first garden party, hosted by the wealthy Lady McCall. Lydia would later learn that Stiles was a family friend to the McCall’s, having grown up with their son Scott as his best friend all throughout childhood, and it was he who secured them invitations. All of the matrons were assigned a girl to chaperone, Malia lucky enough to be assigned Stiles, while Allison had Morell and Lydia cursed with Matron Finch, the worst of the three. 

There was dancing and drinking, some guests seated under an expansive white tent, where refreshments were brought out continuously. A small orchestra played the venue, and it seemed Lady McCall had spent quite a small fortune transforming her backyard into a luxurious tropical oasis. Though the plants were quite lovely, they made the air humid, and Lydia began to feel sweat gathering about the back of her neck. Should it continue, she would have to reapply the dried fruit and flower mixture the matrons provided each girl, so as to mask their natural scent. 

As Lydia surveyed the space, she noted that, while many of the guests in attendance were married couples her parents’ age, there were a few suitors scattered in as well, no doubt invited for their benefit. 

Lydia socialized with some of the suitors, giggling and flicking her fan; looking at them, then away, then back again. It was all as the matrons designed. She danced with the Mr. McCall, son to the ever-charming Lady McCall. Though only a beta, Mr. McCall was incredibly wealthy, of good stock, and quite handsome as well. 

While these things were very well and practical, he was also quite silly, a little too eager, and perhaps a touch too short. Lydia finished the dance, gave a polite curtsey, and left for the tent, where she knocked back a considerable glass of wine, much to Matron Finch’s disapproval.

“Proper Omega do not drink, and especially not in public!” She hissed. She reached for a cup of tea, thrusting it rather aggressively into the girl’s hand. “Do behave, or you’ll be scrubbing the floors at the manor like a beta housemaid when we return.”

Lydia noted, with no small amount of disdain, that the other matrons were not as strict with their charges. While Morell did keep a close watch on Allison, she was content to do so from the side, allowing the girl a bit of freedom. Stiles had given Malia a wide berth and, when the silly girl requested it, danced with her out on the green, laughing and trying not to trip over his own feet. 

Lydia caught Matron Finch eyeing Stiles critically, and steered the woman away from the two dancing omegas, lest she break up their fun too.

Within a few hours, the garden party drew to a close, and the girls thanked their gracious hostess, as well as the suitors they danced with, before climbing into their carriage. It would be a tight squeeze with the matrons in as well, and Lydia had to restrain herself from commenting on the employ of only one carriage.

“Such a fun party,” Malia commented, fixing a stray lock of hair with a pin. “I didn’t ever want to stop dancing.”

Allison grunted, and Lydia nodded. "It had its charms, I suppose. Though I dare say, if that is but a glimpse of the future of our social season, I shall be inconsolable, for none of those suitors were worth their ilk."

"Lydia! You mustn't say such things!"

"I'll say whatever I like; those men were dull, short, and thoroughly disagreeable. I should even go so far as to say we should feel insulted, if that is what we are to work with. Marriage was never something I anticipated to be easy, however in these circumstances it is a Herculean effort."

Allison looked her usual grim disposition, however Malia, who came from country stock and was little familiar with such callous commentary, looked utterly shocked.

The matrons entered the carriage and the conversation ended there, not even Stiles’ lively banter could rouse them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lydia had informed her mother and the widow Blake of the on goings of the garden party, and voiced to them the same discontents she had to her fellow classmates. The lady Martin and widow Blake shared a silent exchange, before looking to her. 

“Lydia, dear, you mustn’t be so sharp,” her mother warned. “It is one thing to embrace your value and understand it in its entirety; it is another to display such candor and confidence, unwarranted as it is. I daresay Mr. McCall is a fine young suitor! And not so short as you make him out to be.”

The widow Blake nodded sagely. “There is nothing to be gained from such criticism.”

Lydia rolled her eyes but stayed her tongue, remembering her manners. “I will remember it, though I make no promises as to changing my tongue; were it not so sharp, I’d have to buy a dagger to replace its sting.”

The two older women shared another look, and spoke no further of it.


	3. Chapter Three

A month after the McCall’s garden party, as spring gave way to summer and its heat, the omegas threw their first society tea. The preparations were immense; white teas imported from all over were sampled and paired with sponge cakes and tarts, compositions were selected for an orchestra to play, the dance hall cleaned and the fires laid for the arrival of the guests. Lydia had the servants prepare a genoise sponge with clotted cream and fresh blackberries, a favorite of hers and necessary in finishing off the blackberries of summer’s harvest. She spent hours with Stiles in the music room, perfecting the song she learned to perform for the guests. Malia was to sing alongside her playing, and Allison was to dance, having no musical affinities herself. 

The guests arrived at noon, ready to mingle and meet the young Omega of the season. Lydia, for all her knowledge and self-accredited foresight, could not have predicted the arrival of the Alpha Hale and her brother to meet the young omegas. Laura Hale was the most eligible Alpha in all of London, and perhaps in all of England. She had inherited her family’s wealth and estates following the death of her mother, the Alpha Talia Hale, and held the title of Duchess of Kensington. Her brother, Lord Derek Hale, managed some of the smaller lands and kept mostly to himself. Both were of exceptional stature, being alphas of good breeding, and together made the affair all the more stylish. 

Lydia would later learn their invitation was impressed upon them by their solicitor Deaton, who happened to be Matron Morell’s older brother. The Alpha Hale spoke politely with all who approached her, whilst her brother scowled and avoided eye contact. 

Lydia socialized with her suitors, sipping her tea and speaking softly when she wanted the suitor closer, louder when she wanted them farther away. It wasn’t long before she was approached by the Alpha Hale, who had watched her performance  alongside the other  o mega s with rapt attention.

“Omega Martin, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” 

Lydia smiled at the small bow the Alpha gave her, extending her hand to be kissed. “And a pleasure to make yours. I trust you are enjoying the festivities?”

“Indeed, I am much like my uncle in that regard, more of a socialite than my brother, at the least.”

The omega’s eyes flicked to the lord, who was eyeing Stiles with interest as the matron played a lively tune on the piano. “It seems to be he enjoys the talents of my tutor, however.”

Laura looked to the other end of the room, barking out a laugh. “Well, isn’t that something.”

She turned back to the omega, who was sipping her tea and feigning indifference. “You play this game well, Omega Martin. Tell me, how many young alphas have been sent from your table heartbroken in these past weeks?”

Lydia shrugged. “Who can say? I’m afraid I haven’t been keeping  score .”

Laura eyed her critically, before giving her a smirk. “Yes, you have.”

The alpha was awarded a coy smile in return. “Perhaps. In any case, you have yet to be sent from my table in tears; tell me, is this visit of yours purely a formality? Surely, you can’t have expected to attend a society tea organized by omegas in their season and to leave unscathed.”

“In truth I attended as part of my duties as an unmated Alpha of society. I had expected to catch the eyes of many young Omega, but had not anticipated one catching mine.”

Lydia hid her smirk behind her fan. “How arrogant of you, to presume so little of my caste.”

Laura rolled her eyes openly. “In any event, I am glad to have met you. Though your tongue is sharp, your wit is quick and your disposition not altogether disagreeable. I should like to have you over at the Hale manor for supper with my family. A formal invitation to court, if you will.”

Lydia smiled. “I should be delighted, Alpha Hale.”

The alpha’s smirk was all mirth and sharp edges. “Wonderful, we shall sup within the week, provided you have not found me disagreeable by then.” She turned on her heel and walked to her brother, tearing him from the piano bench where he had invaded Stiles’ space.

Lydia giggled at the shocked look on her tutor’s face, Laura catching the sound and smirking at the girl as she and her brother left. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The other girls were thrilled at the idea of Lydia visiting the Hale manor, though the Matrons had their misgivings.

“It is highly inadvisable to accept a formal courtship so early in the season,” Matron Finch warned. “Especially given your imperious nature.”

“I find my nature to be no more disagreeable than yours, Matron,” Lydia responded coolly. “And further, the Alpha Hale is no gentle creature herself; indeed, she possesses the kind of barb to her tongue that would not be amiss amongst an archer’s quiver.”

Matron Finch harrumphed in displeasure. “It is clear to me that you are unfit to attend this dinner with such callous opinions. You will be chaperoned, or you will not attend.”

Lydia wanted to argue that, should she wish to attend fiercely enough, she would simply go without fear of reproach from the frigid woman before her. As it was, she knew better than to push the issue and  conceded.

“Matron Stilinski will chaperone,” Finch decided. “He is known to the Hales and seems to be the only person in London who can keep you in line.”

Finch stormed out of the room with a huff, and Stiles looked warily at his charge. Lydia gave him a sweet smile.

“Fret not, dearest Stiles, for Lord Derek will be there, no doubt as dashing as he was this evening.”

The matron’s cheeks pinked, and Lydia counted it as a victory.


	4. Chapter Four

It was only through sheer force of will that Lydia was able to rouse herself at the early hour requested of her, for she and Stiles were to choose proper attire to wear to supper at the Hale manor later that evening. She slipped into her usual manner of dress, pulling on a coat to brave the chilly weather outside, and had just finished with last pins in her hair when the footman came to announce the presence of her guest. 

Stiles was sitting in the parlor, teacup in hand, being once again cooed and fawned over by the meddling Lady Martin. 

“I hear you are to accompany Lydia to the Hales for supper! Surely, the invitation was extended to you as well by way of the Lord Hale?” 

“My attendance this evening is as a Matron, not an eligible Omega, Lady Martin.” Stiles spoke evenly, willing away the faint pink on his cheeks. “Lord Hale will be no more than our gracious host.” 

Lydia noted that, while he still looked clean and neat, her tutor’s choice of attire was much more muted than her own. Although male omegas were, at times, known to wear suits, they were oft found adorned with pearls and finery, to better showcase their beauty to suitors. Stiles’ plainclothes made Lydia feel ever so slightly overdressed. 

“Stiles, shall we go?” she asked, extending her arm. 

Stiles offered her a small smile, taking her arm. “Indeed.” 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

The streets of London were quieter than normal, most shops just beginning to open and the rest of the ton still hidden away in their homes. On Oxford street, they perused bonnets and stockings at Wedgewood’s, on Sackville street, they picked pearls and other finery from Gray’s. Fabric was decided at Grafton’s and left at the tailor’s shop on Fleet Street. Once they had everything accomplished, Stiles arranged for a carriage whilst Lydia arranged for their things to be sent to the Martin home. 

“Where are we heading, Stiles?” Lydia inquired, as the carriage pulled them away from their earlier shopping grounds. 

“There is a small shop in Cheapside where I thought we might hunt for some new gloves,” Stiles spoke evenly. 

Lydia arched her brow, thinking to the gloves they had already purchased, but said nothing. 

The shop was humble and small, but never the less well kept. Inside, Lydia noted that many of the fashions available were of a lesser quality than would be expected, or even tolerated, of a member of high society. Even the beta Widow Blake would be a scandal in these poorer fabrics. 

“Surely, we cannot wear anything from this shop to sup with the _ Hales,” Lydia hissed. _

Stiles ignored her, moving further into the shop, where a thin, pretty girl swept the floors. 

“Erica,” Stiles spoke softly. 

The girl looked up, her worn expression offering a tired smile. “Stiles! How lovely to see you again.” She looked to Lydia, before immediately dropping her gaze to the floor. 

“Erica, may I present the Omega Martin. Lydia, the Omega Reyes.” 

Lydia was struck by the knowledge that the waif before her was an omega. She was far too thin, her skin far too pale. Her hair was pulled back and pinned, but it was sloppy and clearly meant for function and not fashion. 

“Just Miss Reyes,” she said gently. “I have no such title.” 

Remembering her manners, the redhead curtsied, Erica doing the same. “A pleasure.” 

“Erica, might you show me the sketches you have been working on? I am most eager to get my hands on another.” 

Erica laughed, and the sound was hoarse, as if she hadn’t enough practice with the gesture. “I suppose, though you must stop humoring me so.” 

Stiles tutted. “Nonsense; your drawings are as every bit as lovely as my sonatas.” 

The girl scurried off to a back room, presumably in search of the aforementioned drawings, and Lydia shot Stiles a sharp look. He arched his brow, and she abandoned the expression at once. 

Erica returned with several sketches on rough parchment, the materials she used no doubt a gift from the musician before her. “These are the best of the lot, s’not half bad, eh?” 

“_It’s _not,” Stiles corrected, and Erica nodded, testing the words on her tongue. Stiles appraised the sketches awhile longer. “I’ll buy them all,” he decided. 

The two bickered as Erica refused payment and Stiles insisted on it, and Lydia noted that their banter was similar to the kind she shared with her tutor, and jealousy burned low in her gut. 

The two departed, Erica waving to them from the door to the shop, her eyes holding a light in them they did not possess when they first arrived. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The two omegas sat quietly in the carriage as it carried them back to Lydia’s home. 

“She came to us two seasons ago,” Stiles said quietly. “A timid omega from humble roots, hoping to marry well and secure her father’s business. She was with us only a fortnight, for we found that she possessed a terrible condition, and would collapse at any given moment, shaking and seizing. She could not stay, for she was considered an infirm omega and stripped of her title. I visit whenever I can.” 

“You paid quite a large sum for those sketches.” Lydia remarked. 

He nodded. “It helps. Her father’s health is failing and she must do more and more to keep things running. They may not last through the year.” 

Stiles looked to her; his eyes boring into hers. “Do you know why I brought you to meet Erica?” 

Lydia, for the first time in her life, felt both incredibly chastened and slightly frightened. “She is most unfortunate. You wished for me to learn by her example.” 

Stiles shook his head. “Erica will never marry due to her condition, not an eligible alpha or beta, not even perhaps a common man. You have the luxury of choosing your intended, while many do not. Your marriage is not arranged by your family, you are able to marry whomever you wish. Do not take such freedoms in vain, for now you know that very few are in the position to viciously insult their suitors at tea.” 

Lydia’s cheeks burned, and she fixed her gaze firmly to her lap. “I am sorry.” 

“I do not seek your apologies; I seek assurance that such behaviors will be contained. I do not wish to remove your tongue, as Matron Finch may very well be tempted to, but to soften it.” 

She looked up to meet her tutor’s eyes, her expression contrite. “I assure you, I shall use my sharp tongue for nothing more than stabbing my supper.” 

Stiles chuckled, and the two shared a small smile.   



	5. Chapter Five

Later that evening, as the sun sat low on the horizon, the two omegas made their way to the Hale Manor, a rather sizeable home near Westminster Palace, and not too far from Lydia’s own lodgings. The girl’s finery was immaculate, silks and pearls and a delicate fur all wound and pinned intricately upon her person. Stiles, looking quite uncomfortable beside her, was dressed similarly, an astonishingly different visage from the humble suit he had worn during their morning outing. He fiddled with his  glove s; nervousness palpable in the small carriage.

_ And to think he was so composed this morning, _ Lydia thought to herself.

The valet opened the door for them, before leading them inside the manor. Its interior was decorated extravagantly, deep crimson walls accented with gold,  chinoiserie papers depicting whimsical scenes of wolves running through forests and cherubs dancing about the sky. The valet  led them to a drawing room, where the Hale family awaited them.

Laura Hale looked striking; her long, dark hair pulled back and pinned, more modestly than Lydia’s, but by no means less elegant. Next to her was Lord Peter Hale, her uncle and the family’s historian, having taken up the position after his father had passed. Standing by the fire, Derek had been glowering until he noticed Stiles, and at once stood straighter and kept his gaze firmly locked on the omega.

“Omega Martin, Matron Stilinski, it is a pleasure to welcome you to our home,” Laura bowed to the two, and gave Lydia’s hand a delicate kiss when it was presented to her. 

“We are most humbled and pleased by the invitation,” Lydia replied, offering a small smile to the alpha. 

They moved to the dining room, where a sumptuous feast had been laid out for them. Meats, breads and soups adorned the candle lit table, a fire roaring proudly in an ornate fireplace nearby. There were few fruits and vegetables, no doubt the last of the summer harvest, as well as a crystal carafe of wine. The servants bustled about, plating and serving each member at the table before dashing off to complete another task. 

Lydia made sure to follow all of the matron’s rules on table etiquette, and throughout the meal kept conversation light, her oft sharp words now soft and sweet. 

“Surely, the production of _Hamlet _will continue into the next season,” Peter commented between bites of roast duck. “It has garnered great reviews, and the cast is simply sensational.”

Laura smirked. “Are you quite familiar with the talent of the cast, Uncle?”

Peter grinned. “I am, after all, a connoisseur of the arts, dear niece.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I hear they’re planning a new opera to be performed in the winter months.”

Stiles looked to him. “That’s very interesting. Are you a fan of the opera, Lord Hale?”

Derek’s cheeks pinked as he looked at the omega, then back at his plate. “I am.”

“I’ve heard rumor the Irish composer Isaac Lahey has taken up residence in town. Do you think it might be for the very same opera you have mentioned?”

Derek shrugged, meeting the omega’s eyes shyly. “I could inquire further, if it would please you.”

Stiles’ cheeks pinked, but he said nothing.

Peter’s eyes flitted between the two. “My, my, such passion in the room tonight!  I feel woefully neglected.” He leered at Lydia. “Perhaps my niece will be kind enough to allow me to share your company this evening.”

Lydia felt the insult sitting heavily on her tongue, and looked to Stiles. The omega was frowning at Peter, and when he met her gaze, he gave her a  mischievous smile and a nod.

“Perhaps we can find you one of a suitable age to share your evening,” she remarked delicately. “I shall send invitations to the nearest crypt at once.”

Laura snorted, and Derek snickered behind his wine glass.

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “You dare to call me old in my own home, Omega Martin?”

Lydia batted her eyelashes. “Old is such a subjective word, Lord Hale. Were you truly of a notable maturation, I should think to keep you in the wine cellar. As it is, I celebrate your many years and thank divine Providence for my time of birth; for if I was of a comparable age, I should be counting my days on the Julian  calendar still!”

Laura howled with laughter, and Derek gave a rare, genuine smile. Stiles shot Lydia a proud look, dabbing at the corner of his mouth gingerly with his napkin. “Dear me, Lord Hale, I do hope you’ll forgive my charge. She is green to the ways of formality, and certainly manners are not as refined as they were when you learned them. Indeed, I hear classic antiquity was founded by your example.”

Laura’s eyes bugged out of her head at the matron, and she clutched her sides as the laughter became painful. “I daresay this is the most enjoyable meal we’ve had in some time.”

Peter’s cold stare broke, and he chuckled at the antics of the two omegas. “I see we could not have found a more perfect match to dine with us; this supper has been barbed and venomous, and utterly delightful.”

After the meal was through, the group retired to the salon, where Derek and Peter kept Stiles company while Laura and Lydia conversed by the fire.

“Truly, it has been a pleasant evening with you, Omega Martin,” Laura commented, a warm smile gracing her features.

“I quite agree,” Lydia responded, her usual condescending tone absent. “Your family is charming, and you are a remarkable alpha.”

Laura’s smile turned shy. “Then, perhaps, you shall allow me to call upon you in the next week? I’m afraid I haven’t had my fill of your company.”

Lydia grinned, bright and jovial. “I should like that very much.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

As the two omegas rode away from the Hale manner that evening, Lydia’s stomach felt light and slightly queasy. When she explained the sensation to Stiles, the chaperone merely smiled, and shook his head.

“I must commend you on your behavior this evening,” he commented. “I should think this experience has demonstrated to you that it is not necessary to completely cut off one’s claws to be polite and gracious.”

The redhead nodded. “There is a balance to it, as there is to all things. I thank you for teaching me this lesson, as I have been richly rewarded from it.”

When Lydia returned home, and divulged the events of the night to her mother and the widow Blake, the young omega felt a serenity and happiness she did not think she would find from her visit, and eagerly awaited for the Alpha Hale to call upon her again. 


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is soooo late. I'm sorry for the silence on this fic, but I needed inspiration to continue with this. Anyways, I apologize, and hope you enjoy.

Though Lydia wished to share the news of her successful dinner, to spite Matron Finch and stir envy in Allison and Malia, she had to postpone her gloating for two days, as her father had come up for a visit and bade her keep him company for the entirety of his trip. It was with some sadness and great relief that on the third day, she watched him go, for while she loved her father and missed him terribly while away in London, she had quite the story to recount to her peers, and could not wait a second longer to do so. 

When her carriage arrived at the Tea Society’s estate, Lydia allowed the valet to lead her inside. There, she found Allison draped across a chaise in way that was both elegant in form and highly improper, as it gave display to her shapeliness under her dress, reading a book. 

The dark-haired omega smirked and set her book aside, righting herself to make room for Lydia on the chaise. “I am to guess the dinner at the Hale manor was quite the success.” 

Of the women with whom she associated most often, Allison was easily Lydia’s favorite, for she matched her in beauty, cunning and savagery. Allison was as vicious as any young omega; however, her natural poise and impeccable tact saved her from the usual chastisements Matron Finch often unleashed upon Lydia. The most marked difference between the two was that, while Lydia truly wished for a good match and agreeable marriage, Allison did not. Allison was not the sort of omega who could find herself complimentary to an alpha, and indeed she had spent the course of their season thus far conversing only with betas, for they could not truly dominate her, and she did not wish to be dominated at all. Lydia suspected that, had she not been born an omega, Allison could have very well been an alpha, like her aunt. 

“It was quite fruitful,” Lydia divulged. “For both myself and, perhaps, our dear music tutor.” 

Allison’s smirk widened to a mischievous grin. “I am aware of Stiles’ results, at least, already; for just five minutes before you arrived, Lord Derek Hale called on him.” 

Lydia gasped, and leaned forward, looking in that moment very much like her gossip-hungry mother. “Lord Hale is _ here_, with our Stiles?” 

Allison nodded, and Lydia grasped her arm. “Then why are we not tucked away in the formal parlor this very minute? Surely, they cannot only be speaking of music and the ballet.” 

Allison looked to her as though the idea had not crossed her, though Lydia knew her well enough to guess she was merely waiting for either herself or Malia to arrive, so as to have an accomplice in her mischief. The two snuck quietly through the main hall, ducking into the servant's pantry just behind the formal parlor. It was hardly larger than a powder room, with shelves full of dried herbs and other materials used by the servants. There was a door to the formal parlor from this pantry, as the parlor had once been the formal dining room, before the matrons moved it farther from the kitchen so as to keep the sounds of the servant’s work away from well to do guests. This also came with the benefit of a larger parlor in which to entertain, for although meals were tremendously important in a tea society, space for socializing and gaiety were equally as necessary. 

The door was hidden from view of the parlor by a thick curtain and rather large plant, so that when Allison and Lydia left it ajar, they were granted a relatively unobscured view of the room and its two current inhabitants, with the benefit of being totally out of sight. 

The alpha and omega were seated opposite one another, on ornate loveseats that matched not only one another, but the few armchairs placed about the room as well. It was not uncommon to see one of the matrons sat with a suitable alpha, though it was often times due to the alpha’s interest in one of the eligible omegas, and not a personal visit. As a matron, Stiles did not technically need a chaperone present; however, given his age and loveliness, it could be considered improper for one who could still easily marry to be alone with an unmarried alpha. 

Each held a teacup and, where Stiles’ handling looked delicate and proper, Derek looked as though he was trying his hardest not to break the fragile china. Were it evening hours, and the sun lost for the day, they might partake in a glass of wine, or perhaps even a small drink of port, but as it was midday, and not a proper time for anyone to be drinking, let alone an omega, they had tea. 

Stiles was once again dressed plainly for an omega, his day clothes bereft of any pearls or finery, though his hair was pinned as ornately as ever, and gloves had been pulled on quite clearly due to the arrival of the alpha. Derek was dressed quite spectacularly, his expensive suit speaking to an elevated taste that Lydia could most assuredly credit to his sister Laura, for she was the most impeccably styled of the Hales at supper. 

“I want to thank you again for allowing me to call upon you,” Derek spoke, his words proper but his tone nervous. “You are a most gracious host.” 

Stiles gave a tentative smile. “I am a matron of London’s most prestigious tea society; I should hope to be at least a courteous one.” 

Derek nodded. “The work of the matrons has never ceased to amaze me; were it not for such capable tutors, I am certain my dear sister Cora would have found herself living among the wolves.” 

Stiles laughed at this. “I remember the Omega Hale; she attended this very society alongside myself. She married the Alpha Deucalion, if I am not mistaken.” 

Derek’s nose scrunched at the mention of the name. “Indeed, and it is fortunate that they live in the country, for I personally cannot stand the man, and I know Peter feels much the same.” 

Stiles chose not to respond to this, and Derek cocked his head, as though recalling something. “You mentioned studying alongside my sister? I had been away during the months she spent here before her marriage, and returned only just before Laura inherited her title.” 

“Indeed, I studied alongside Cora, as well as the Omegas Dunbar, Talbot and Daehler.” 

“All now married?” Derek questioned, before wincing at his forwardness. “Apologies, I meant nothing by my words.” 

Stiles took a long sip from his cup, letting the lord stew in his discomfort. “No apology is necessary; I am unmarried by choice.” 

“May I be so bold as to ask why?” 

Stiles hummed, tapping his bottom lip thoughtfully, causing the alpha to fixate on the gesture. “I had been courted, during my first season, by the Alpha Raeken. He was charming enough, with a wealth of five thousand pounds a year, which is more than a modest sum. He was as clever as I, but with no real taste nor affinity for music.” 

“You two sound well suited,” Derek could not keep the bitterness from his voice. 

Stiles’ expression turned sad, and Lydia and Allison looked to one another. Neither had known this of their tutor; indeed, they knew him to be a wonderful musician and quite lovely omega, but not an eligible with suitors. It was akin to hearing one’s parents speak openly of their youth before marriage and child rearing. 

“I suppose, in many ways, we were. I was expected to marry him when he offered, by the matrons as well as my father; however, I did not love him and, ultimately, did not wish to marry.” 

Allison breathed a quiet ‘_oh_,’ and Lydia knew this to mean she could relate to Stiles in this regard very well. 

“When I told my father of this,” Stiles continued, “he was perhaps a little upset, but understood my reasoning. I think he hoped I would find another, and maybe still hopes for this; however, my mother was an accomplished matchmaker before she died, and I decided to follow her example by becoming a matron. I already possessed the education, and my father’s knighthood paired with my late mother’s reputation guaranteed me the position. I am only grateful the details of our courtship were kept from the public, as a formal engagement would have been near impossible to avoid had the ton known I was to be offered for by a wealthy alpha.” 

Derek took a big gulp from his tea, choosing his next words carefully. “I take this to mean you are happy to be unwed, and living here with the other matrons.” 

Stiles gave him a pointed look. “Did you believe me to be here against my will, by either spinsterhood or my father’s influence?” 

Derek’s eyes widened as he stuttered out a denial. “Not at all! I only meant that I am surprised by this information. I am not well versed in social norms and cues, beyond what every child of nobility is taught. My family always knew my sister to be Alpha, and thus I was never given the rigorous political and social training she endured. Truly, until my mother’s passing, I was content to live out in the country away from all this nonsense.” 

He set his teacup aside gazing imploringly at the omega. “I did not mean any offense; I am merely woefully uninformed.” 

Stiles snickered, which would be considered fairly improper for an eligible omega to do. “I forgive you; it is not such a punishable thing, to be unaware of these things. If anything, it allows for a greater acquaintance, for all of these things you did not know, I had the luxury of telling you firsthand.” 

Derek nodded. “I am grateful for this, as I much prefer your voice to my sister’s or uncle’s.” 

Stiles made an indistinguishable noise, and the room then fell silent. 

“I wonder,” Derek soldiered on, his embarrassment plain on his face. “If you might not play for me? I so enjoyed your performance at the young omegas’ tea.” 

Stiles nodded, his cheeks still a lovely, rosy red. He stood gracefully, his usual floundering absent as he very nearly glided from the room, the Lord Hale trailing after him. 

The girls sat very still, until they could hear the soft playing of their tutor from the sitting room. They looked to one another, moving quickly from their hiding place and taking a side corridor down to the library. It was thankfully empty, and the two slumped onto the couch, the information of their tutor’s circumstances heavy on their minds. 

“I would never have thought it,” Allison remarked, playing absently with a strand of hair that had fallen out of place during their subterfuge. 

Lydia nodded in agreement. Truly, she would have never believed one so skilled in matchmaking to be completely incapable of finding a match for oneself, and she found herself slightly annoyed that her tutor could not or would not see what was plainly before him. 

“I daresay the Lord Hale will have his work cut out for him.” Lydia muttered, when an idea came to her. Surely, the alpha would press his suit further should it be known to all of London that the Matron Stilinski had caught the eye of Lord Hale during their sup with the Hales. Stiles would have no reason to deny him, and would eventually accept the engagement, ensuring him a happy match as the wife of Lord Derek Hale. 

She rose from her seat, not bothering to bid Allison goodbye as she had the servants bring the carriage around. She climbed in and made for Hyde Park, determined to divulge this bit of gossip to her mother, who would no doubt have it spread to all of London before the next day. 


End file.
